


All The Stars

by nelliecrain



Category: Journey to Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Drabble Collection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-04-14 10:04:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 36
Words: 19,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14133810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nelliecrain/pseuds/nelliecrain
Summary: An ever updating collection of every Gingerpilot and Darkpilot drabble I've ever written.





	1. "what happened to you?"

“what the hell happened to you?”

armie looked up from his datapad just as the pilot stepped through the doors of their quarters, looking him up and down and giving an amused smile. 

poe had an idiotic grin on his face- but when didn’t he. he was wearing a white shirt stained with jet fuel and grease, bright orange flight suit tied at the waist that was basically soaked with what looked like soapy water and more grease. his hair was a tangled mess of sweaty curls, little beads of moisture cutting lines through the scuffs of dust on his cheeks and neck. 

“just hanging with my ship,” he responded, stepping over to crash next to armie on their bed, flopping one arm across his lap absently before exhaling gently. 

“you look like you crashed,” he smirked, shifting slightly to accommodate the new presence on his lap. 

“aw, well, not today.” 

armie set down the datapad, gazing down at the pilot. “what else have you got planned for the day?”

“back to the ship. I gotta fix the coolant pipes, check the vents and-”

armie gave a little shake of his head and began to sit up, pulling poe along with him. “hm, no.”

“wha-?” poe mumbled as armie basically lifted him up and set him on his feet before grabbing his arm and starting to drag him toward the refresher.

“shower first, alright? then eat something. then sleep, okay babe? you’ve been working too hard.”

poe figured he was right.

he didn’t protest.


	2. "kriffin' hell!"

he’d been at it for over two hours now, jamming buttons on the handheld controller and exclaiming strings of unintelligible curses when the holo-game displayed ‘level failed!’ in bright, blue letters on the display screen. 

armitage was sitting on their bed, millie curled on his lap, as he flicked through a holopad, eyes skimming the words across the screen but never even blinking as his boyfriend cried bloody murder at the holo-game.

“kriffin’ hell!” poe muttered through gritted teeth. “I swear, every time, I get so close and that damn little vac-suit marks up my run…” he was, at this point, mumbling incoherent curses armitage had never even heard of before. it was educational, to say the least. “I was right there! I’m telling you, it’s the kriffing holo! It’s gotta be glitched up or something- scratchy insert, probably.” he let out a little ‘tch’, leaning back on the foot of the bed where he sat on the floor, glaring at the display screen “can you believe this, armie?” the pilot set his head back on the bed, dark curls spilling over the white sheets.

armitage barely looked up but offered a little smile. 

“I’m not switchin’ to easy mode. I will beat this, you’ll see.” 

another round of stifled shouts of frustration and the controller clattered as it hit the opposite wall, just next to the display screen.

“kriff it!” the pilot threw his head back once more in exasperation, only to watch as wordlessly armie stood up, millie settling in the warmth he left behind, to walk across the room and pick up the controller.

“watch and learn, dameron,”

settling in next to the pilot, armitage restarted the level, and finished in barely a minute.

poe was speechless.

armie stood up with a smug smile, handing the controller back to poe before walking away once more.

“how in the hell…?” poe managed, staring dumbfounded at the ‘level complete!’ written on the display screen.


	3. "mom,"

“I got into a dogfight again.” 

the stars sparkled brightest on clear nights, of course. it was only clear night when he visited her. gesturing to the numerous cuts held together by closures in the place of sutures. the lacerations weren’t too deep this time, kalonia had still given him hell though. and that ginger. 

“I’m okay, though, promise. nothing I haven’t been through before.” he rushed to assure her, holding his hands up in a little shrug. 

“but uh, everything is going fine here. the tree is looking really well, it’s even brighter than last time. wish you could see it…”

his gaze drifted off, back toward the ranch. he’d walked here, but it had already fallen dark. kes would begin to worry soon.

“do you-” he turned back up to look to the sky. “do you think he’s proud of me?” a pause. “armitage wants to meet him but I don’t know… don’t know if…” but she knew this already. being one with the force, and all, or whatever it is that happened when they died. 

leia said it was like stardust. every life was like a bit of dust travelling the galaxy- having broken off from a larger celestial body and found its own path only to one day fall into orbit with an asteroid or a moon or a star and become one with the world again. 

“I hope it’s okay that I…” he ducked his head a little, running one hand through his dark curls. “no. you wanted me to give it to someone special… of course, you’re happy. I just don’t know about what he’s going to think when he meets ‘tage…”

overhead, a few stars twinkled against the dark.

“I love you.

goodnight, mom.”


	4. "chocolate,"

it was common knowledge that poe dameron loved two things the most in this world. dangerous things, and sweet things. armitage hux was both in one, so naturally, the boy fell head over heels for the dashing officer the moment he met him.

one of armitage’s favorite things to bring poe, be it as a loving, heartfelt gift or after a particularly dangerous mission, was sweets. mostly because after consuming whatever startling quantity of sugar armitage presented him with that day, he would be rewarded with a kiss.

poe already tasted sweet. he’d push one hand through hux’s neatly gelled hair, gently cupping the side of his face with the other. armie especially liked poe’s kisses after missions, because even though the pilot would run from his x-wing sweaty and tired and panting, they’d embrace like they hadn’t seen each other in years and it was the sweetest feeling in the world for armie.

so if poe ever offered him a bite of whatever sweet he was indulging in, the officer would politely refuse. claiming not only would it only get his blood sugar needlessly high, but he already had something sweet in his life.


	5. "stop that,"

“I don’t see why you insist on volunteering for these ridiculous runs.” armie hissed, expression twisting into a grimace as he dabbed at the bloody scrape that tore across poe’s cheek. 

the pilot opened his mouth to speak, but before he could utter a word armitage cut him off.

“not only are they all completely insane, but you keep getting hurt, you kriffing idiot!” he pressed the bandage against poe’s cheek with one palm as he grabbed for something else out of the first aid kit set up next to where poe sat. armie was sitting cross-legged in front of him, nearly in the pilot’s lap, if he was any closer. from this point, it was easiest to prevent poe from fighting back against his forced medical attention. 

“I know, darling I’m sorry-” poe winced slightly as the pressure increased against his cheek, and he turned his head slightly to try to escape but armie was quick to place one hand against his chin and set his head straight again. 

“stop that,” armie chided as he returned to fumbling around in the first aid kit. “the more you fuss, the longer this takes.” 

with a stifled sigh, poe bit his tongue and stayed quiet as armie replaced the bandage on his cheek with a little patch. 

“there, see? that wasn’t hard at all.” the ginger gave a roll of his eyes as he settled both hands folded in his lap. a little sigh. 

“you shouldn’t worry so much.” poe muttered, letting a grin lighten his expression. there was no way armie could ever stay irritated when he looked at him like that- with a roguish smile and husky tone. force, armie was a lucky guy.

“you know I worry about you.” his gaze flicked down.

a little chuckle as poe leaned forward a bit, one hand settling over armie’s. 

“you gotta stop doing that, love.” 

“what?” he looked up with a rather defensive, sharp stare, acutely aware of the rush of blood to his cheeks.

“sayin’ stuff that makes me want to kiss you.”


	6. "constellations,"

during these precious, fleeting moments, time slowed to stand still. nothing outside of those doors mattered- nothing but the warmth they shared, the feeling of the pilot’s calloused hands tracing meaningless shapes against his back, or running through his ruffled ginger hair. 

soft whispers shared in the dead of the night cycle neither would remember the next morning but would savor for the time they could exist together and sweet, brief kisses broke up by quiet laughter and murmurs. 

“what’s that?” armitage spoke up with a hushed mumble, turning slightly to stretch one hand out and brush against the top of poe’s tousled curls. “those patterns.”

the pilot let his hand settle against armie’s side as he shifted to face him. the aureate light shaded his features softly, but a warm honey colored gaze settled on him with such an endearing expression, a loving and silent gesture. 

“stars.” poe broke the silence with a little mumble. “the constellations you can see from yavin,” the hand that was resting against his side shifted to grasp armie’s hand, carefully letting his fingers trail over his palm.

“there’s the sun, and fiddonl in orbit,” a central star and a circle that stretched up to the top of his palm and the edge of his thumb. “and stroiketcy- a beautiful comet that circles around the sun.” a sweeping motion around the edge of the planet’s orbit. “corellian- for tailed one. it lights up the night sky, like fire cutting through the dark…”

he was so enamored with the stars. 

it was endearing.

“aa'kua, a cold, cold star. far from the others, all alone.” 

his hand trailed up to armie’s wrist, circling a little dot. 

“yavin 4. that’s home.”

home. to armie, the pilot- his touch, his sound- that was home.

–

it had been several months since that night. it was always a very long time between their meetings. usually, it was a surprise- poe would send an urgent message only for armitage to meet him at some dusty cantina and be met with an embrace and a wide grin. sometimes, it was actually planned. meeting in some backwater planet under the radar of either the first order or the resistance. that night, they had been able to fall asleep beside one another- and it was the most amazing feeling in the world.

armitage fell asleep to poe tracing elegant star maps across his body and now, nothing felt the same. he couldn’t fall asleep, stayed restless and worried every time poe was out on missions or one of his squads reported they’d shot down an x-wing squadron.

the same love- it brought so much worry, that only ceased the moment he felt the pilot in his arms. 

it was bittersweet, truly.


	7. "tch,"

it was completely quiet in their shared quarters, and neither minded. it was sometimes the best time spent together when they could simply exist side by side, each doing their own thing, but there for the other nonetheless.

bb-8 had left nearly a half-hour ago to do some repairs on black one, so poe was left to review some flight records, while armitage had his nosy buried in some book, head resting atop the pilot’s lap.

from the dashimager planted on black one’s fuselage, poe could see clearly the nose of his ship and her path as the squadron raced over the tips of snowy mountains and cascading waterfalls. a particularly icy planet in a neighboring system that they had gotten an emergency frequency from. 

the mission was a success, but the general had criticized his waste of munitions and fuel and poe had sullenly retreated to his room.

now, he was watching the footage again and frowning at the battle as it took place before him. “

“tch,” poe mumbled quietly, rolling his eyes. there was nothing wrong with his flight pattern, the munitions used were necessary and they had gotten the transport to safety, what more did the general want? he swiped one finger across the screen of the datapad, and rewound the footage to view the skirmish once more.

“there,” 

armitage stirred on his lap, setting down the book and settling so his head was propped up. 

“rewind. there.”

poe gave a confused nod, obediently rewinding once more. 

“your formation is all off. see how that tie cuts you off in the middle? could have been avoided if you stayed in a tighter offensive shape.” he spoke simply, as if this was no provlem at all, before plopping right back down to grab his book.

poe’s eyes widened slightly, a defensive blush flushing his cheeks. “wha- no-!”

armitage only chuckled gently, saying nothing more on the subject.

but then he realized- he was right. if he had told his fighters to stay closer to his wing, a tighter offensive formation- they would’ve have been thrown off.

he blinked down to look at armie, opening his mouth to speak, but the ginger was already wrapped into his book again.

and that, poe decided, was possibly the hottest thing armitage had ever done.


	8. "tired,"

every time poe returned from a mission, hux would be there. be it a short, couple hour recon, or a weeklong scout mission, or a deployment to fight in some skirmish with the order. every time, hux was there to welcome him home.

this time, something was different.

poe had been away for two weeks. the general refrained from telling armitage the details of the mission, but his squadron, in short, had been deployed in a very lowkey infiltration and extraction mission to a distant order base. hux burst into a run to stand before black one as soon as the squadron landed, ground crew swarming the ship to check the ashy blasts that grazed the engines and s-foils, setting up a ladder so the pilot could climb down. 

“poe-!” armitage spoke rather gleefully, pushing past a technician to practically pull his boyfriend into a tight hug as soon as his feet hit the ground. “you’re alright.” a huff of relief. every time poe left for a mission, there was an undeniable chance he could never return. it felt amazing to have him home. his flight suit was ingrained with the scent of stardust. jet fuel and sweat, and the sweet underlying tone of deicing fluid and soap when he would clean and care for the x-wing. sometimes, even then smell of paint if he decided he wanted to give his girl a little touchup. 

everything felt tired about him. the way he collapsed into the embrace, allowing armitage to gather him in his arms and just hold him- and the weak, shallowed breaths from coming down from an adrenaline rush.

but it was different.

armie pulled back, setting both hands on poe’s shoulders to look him over. “kriff, you look exhausted.” he muttered. “that was a long mission, are you alright?”

“I just need a nap, ‘tage.” poe huffed with a wide, tired grin. 

armie let one hand trail up to poe’s face, pressing the back of his hand to his pilot’s forehead, where his own pale skin felt far too cool against poe’s overheated and rather damp forehead. “come on, you need to get some rest.”

-

as soon as they reached their shared quarters, armitage sat poe down, helping the tired pilot out of his flight suit and into proper sleepwear, before demanding that he rest.

poe insisted on returning to his ship- claiming he’s knocked her around quite a bit and that she needed attention- but armitage wasn’t having it, and instead asked bb-8 to go see to the ship. 

the pilot continued to complain until armie curled up with him on their bed, gently running his hands through poe’s hair until he fell asleep.

he pretty much proceeded to sleep for 24 hours straight, waking every so often to find that armitage had brought him food or water to stay hydrated or medication from the medbay. of course, in the end, poe would convince armie to give him a kiss before he passed out for another few hours.

at one point, armie went to the general to ask if poe was alright, but she assured him this was completely normal and usually it’d be jess or snap to watch over him.

but poe had his love to keep him safe.


	9. "yavin,"

“you’re gonna love it there.” armitage didn’t even need to look away from the viewport to imagine the bright grin on dameron’s face. the light sparkling in his eyes reflecting from the bright yavin sun as the transport curved through the asteroid belt to reach the pilot’s home planet of yavin 4. 

it was already quite a sight to see. the glittering asteroids made up of ice and jewelled rock veins that glistened and shattered into billions of pieces of aureate stardust that orbited bigger pieces of asteroid until they combined, and the cycle began again.

he could see several planets from the viewpoint. not only the blazing sun, but a couple of distant planets that he could only guess the names of from when poe would trace them along his back, arms, and chest as they fell asleep. at the center of it all was always yavin 4. 

where poe had grown up, spent his entire life until he joined the republic navy. this place was obviously important to him- and armitage was determined to enjoy every bit of it. he was sure, of course, that everything on the beautiful jungled moon would be just as amazing as poe described. 

“I know I will.” armie murmured, turning to face his boy, reaching to take his hands and lace their fingers together. 

truth be told, he was anxious. he was worried. this would be the first time armie was meeting poe’s father, stepping foot on a place so deeply sacred to the pilot. he wanted this to go well- he really did. 

his first step onto yavin earth, armitage was overtaken by a humid breeze that ruffled his hair slightly, little beads of sweat forming against his skin. 

the scenery was beautiful. tall, elegant trees created a canopy of a forest around the ranch, one particualry intricate tree a little ways away at the edge of the forest- the leaves seemed to sparkle with a vibrant energy, letting off a cool and powerful aura…

“poe!” a warm voice called over, and the pilot brushed past armitage to greet a man standing at the edge of the fence surrounding the ranch. 

kes was a bold man. everything about him was battle-worn. from the scars visible below his neckline and around his face, to the scuffed nature of his clothes. his features, which poe clearly inherited, were angular and brave. it was clear to see the resemblance. he had kes’s smile, too, bright and wide, and friendly and warm.

armitage awkwardly waited by the transport, watching father and son reunite for the first time in person in years. 

like a weird, displaced third-wheel.

“dad,” poe spoke up, loud enough so armie could hear. he perked up as the pilot turned to look at him. “this is armitage… my boyfriend.” a little smile flickered over his features at that, and armie stepped forward to extend a hand to kes.

“a pleasure to meet you, mr. dameron,” 

kes took his hand, offering a firm shake. “no need to be so formal. call me kes.” he offered a smile- the smile only a dad could give. and instantly, armie felt at home.

“this tree… my parents planted it before I was born.” poe set one hand agains the roughed bark of the beautiful, sparkling tree. “mom used to tell me it was grown from the force.”

armitage, however, wasn’t entranced with the glittering leaves. but with the pilot. his honey colored gazed, it was complimented by the warm golden light of the yavin sun- and it was enchanting.

“I used to climb here.” a little laugh. “mom would yell at me when I fell, but it never really hurt. just fun.”

“force, you’ve always been this brash?”

another little chuckle.

“that’s what got me to fall in love with you, right?”

“you’re not wrong.”

without missing a beat, armie turned, and planted his lips against poe’s- gently the pair moved in sync until poe’s back was resting against the base of the tree, armie’s hands gently moving up his sides to rest one palm on his waist, the other cupping his cheek as they stood unseperated- together.

they broke apart briefly, but so close still that when the pilot spoke a soft, “I love you,” he was murmuring into armie’s mouth- and in that moment, he pulled back into another kiss.

“come on,” poe moved slightly, to grasp armie’ hand, tugging him gently away from the tree as they seperated. “I’ve got one more thing to show you before we go back to the house,”

armie had trailed behind poe for a good ten minutes or so, up a gradual hilly path through the jungle until the hill’s peak, a grassy spot that overlooked the top of the rest of the jungle- providing a stunning view that grasped armie’s attention immediatley.

it was like liquid gold. a rippling dome of gold that spilled over the sky, casting aureate glows that reflected on the tops of the trees and the smooth clouds that surrounded the yavin star. hints of pink edged the clouds and a similar hint of silver that lay furthest from the blazing sun, melding with the blue of the sky. 

poe tugged at the hem of armie’s shirt, prompting him to sit down in the soft grass with him. 

they were together within seconds- poe settling his head against armie’s shoulder and letting their hands naurally intertwine.

“I want to spend my whole life with you, ‘tage.”

this was only a beginning.


	10. "millie,"

poe woke up to a fluffy ball curled up on his chest, emitting a purring vibration as she snored peacefully. 

he hummed a little laugh, rolling over so the cat flopped onto the empty side of the bed. she stood up, flicked her tail, and stretched forward to bop her little pink nose against poe’s forehead.

recoiling with a chuckle, the pilot reached one hand to push himself up and run his fingers through his tousled curls. 

“morning, millie.” he mused. the tabby offered a trill before stepping forward to attempt to climb onto him once more. she was always a very tactical cat, enjoying cuddles far more than her mostly grumpy owner. 

an inquisitive mew.

“I know, I know,” poe responded as he gazed at the empty space beside him. “he’ll be back by the end of the week. until then, you’ve gotta keep me warm, alright?”

millicent flopped onto her back against, twisting to reveal her white and ginger stomach and sticking her front paws in the air. poe reached over to give her a few belly rubs, but she instantly trapped his fingers between her paws. a cleverly disguised trap. 

“d’you want to be fed? what?” poe muttered as he pulled away, but millie prevailed by pouncing on top of his hand and ducking her head, delivering a swift nip to his wrist. 

“alright, alright!” the pilot fell back against his pillow, allowing the tabby to climb up and settle on his chest again. “I concede, fluffy adversary.”

the purring began again, but her little green gaze stayed fixed on him.

“I know, millie,” poe let one hand settle over her head in a soft pat. “I miss him too.”


	11. "kids,"

it wasn’t uncommon for kids to run around unmonitored on the base. the sons and daughters of infantry or officers that didn’t have a loved one living elsewhere would often be seen helping their mother or father, or playing together in the gravel outside of the hangars. usually, they were no bother and became a beloved part of the work environment of the d’qar base. 

poe adored the kids. they were cute, what was not to like? he’d never spoken to armitage about a family, though. that seemed out of the question, really. with poe risking his life on missions every other day and armie working hard beside the general and spending almost no downtime, it didn’t seem logical.

he didn’t know how much he really wanted a family until now, though.

the pilot was sat atop black one’s fuselage, leaning back on the duraglass canopy as he gazed down at armie.

the ginger was standing at the side of the x-wing, panel flicked open on her nose revealling an array of wires and mechanics that poe deduced he’d knocked up when a blaster bolt hit his shields too hard. 

and though on any other day poe would’ve taken joy in fixing her up, today he was simply tired, and watching armie work was enamoring to say the least. 

the pilot had only taught armitage about the ship a couple of days earlier, and he was catching on quick. claimed he wanted to be able to help poe on his tougher days.

he had a worn jacket tied around his waist, pale skin showing where his shirt rode up on his stomach. there was a thin layer of grease on his lower arms, sweat cuting clear lines through the grime. 

but he looked focused. determined. 

that’s when they heard it.

a desprate cry from across the field of gravel. the pilot perked up instantly, as did his attentive ginger. 

a little child, barely five, had fallen and seemingly scraped up her knees. she was sobbing gently, probably terrified.

armitage burst toward her without a second thought, poe watching, ready to jump up in a moment’s notice.

he knelt beside the girl, holding out a hand after wiping the grease against his shirt, speakign softly and gently with a little smile across his features. 

the little girl got to her feet, responding with a sniffly whine before claiming she’d lost sight of her mother, couldn’t find anyone she knew.

“that’s okay, love,” poe could barely hear what armie was saying, but it was kind and gentle. “let’s go find her, alright?”

the girl nodded eagerly, gripping the edge of her shirt as armitage stood and took her tiny hand, giving a little look to poe that said all he needed to before starting to lead the little girl away to find her mother.

never would he have thought armie would be so good with kids.

and never before had he wanted a family with that man so bad.


	12. "dance with me,"

it’d been too long since they’d seen each other last.

far too long, and both had begun to grow weary of waiting for the other’s touch.

so finally, the day came. 

the pilot arrived first, clothing void of any resistance symbols that could draw attention, coming as well in an untracked transport to avoid suspicion from his superiors. the planet in its entirety was in an economic backwater, the streets dimly lit and full of bad decisions (plenty of which poe could account for). there were only a few safe bars he could choose from, and in the end, decided on a rather lowkey location in which he could pay off the barkeep not to spill any information to curious passersby that may or may not recognize the pilot or the general.

the ginger arrived second, somehow still able to maintain quite a composed demeanor while being dressed in nothing as elegant as his uniform, and stylishly tousled and roughed hair.

as soon as they had both slipped into the booth in the corner of the bar to speak softly over candlelight, it seemed the entire room was empty save for the two of them. nothing outside of those doors mattered. not politics, not war…

poe stood up suddenly, armitage’s eyes trailing up to him in confusion. 

the pilot crossed to the other side of the table, extending a hand to the general with a soft, playful little grin. 

“dance with me, hugs,”

armitage’s lips curled down in distaste at the abhorred nickname but, as he would truly do anything to make the pilot happy, reached up to gently place his hand in poe’s as be pulled to his feet, pulled out to the empty space where softly a song played int he background. 

“really, dameron?” he chided quietly, only to be hushed.

“don’t call me that, love,” poe said after a moment, one hand settling on the ginger’s waist. “just… listen.” 

the general nearly froze up as the pilot drifted closer. somehow, he couldn’t help but wrap his arms around him as he lead them softly around the floor, humming along to the song so quietly.

“this really isn’t-”

“shhh,” poe hushed once more, his head falling down to rest just above armitage’s collarbone. “see, isn’t this sweet?”

with a stifled sigh, the general let himself relax.

as soon as his muscles untensed, breaths slowing to match poe’s, he felt the pilot shift to place a little kiss on his jawline, just below his cheek.

the time would come for the two to drift their seperate ways onc emore. the pilot back to risking his life in the air, the general to shouting at troops mercilessly.

each looking forward to the day when they could simply exist together once more.


	13. "jacket,"

armitage is (secretly) quite fond of when he falls asleep in poe’s shirts and sweaters. they smell like, as with everything around the pilot, stardust and jet fuel and the sweet hint of deicing fluid, glycerin and oil and the dusty scent of a t-70 x-wing cockpit. stardust.

they’re often a little short on him, but wide enough so they fit comfortably, warm enough to keep him company when poe is away on extended missions.

he is also (secretly) fond of when poe wears his clothes. sometimes they’re a little bit of an awkward fit, but the pilot loves it when armie throws his coat over poe’s shoulders when they’re out watching the stars above d’qar together or when he collapses from a tiring mission.

either way, it’s usually poe who returns home and finds a jacket missing. he doesn’t bother asking if armie took it, he’ll find out the next day when armie wears it around the base all day and earns some raised eyebrows from everyone around them.

they all know what their wearing of one another’s clothing implies.

but to be fair, they’re right


	14. "his consort,"

the warm chandrilan sunlight cast a myriad of colored beams through the silk curtains blowing softly out over the balcony that overlooked the silver sea. the air was warm and temperate, as was most weather in the empire’s capital. save for the sparse drizzles and mild winters, every day was lit by aureating sunlight.

they were quite literally tangled up in one another and the sheets fell over them in a soft mesh of pale colors and sun-kissed, bare skin. the first to stir, as always, was armitage. carefully pulling away from poe’s warmth to sit at the edge of the bed, only to be coaxed back as the pilot reached over to wrap both arms around his waist, whining softly, features hidden by a tousle of dark brown curls.

shifting slightly, armitage let his hand skim against the other’s tanned skin, to settle against his cheek and softly raise his head to fondly gaze at his honeyed eyes, his content expression…

“don’t go yet,”

those words, a soft plea- they were enough to lull armitage back toward poe, laying back to curl against him and let them fall back into those precious moments before each parted ways to assess the more official business.

both preferred this, anyway.


	15. "oh shit,"

he felt like he’d been run over with a speeder. no- ten speeders, all at once, and the drivers all had a revenge plot to kill him painfully and slowly.

“you’re a real nerf-herder, you know that?”

ben was leaned back against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, watching poe sprawled across the bed with an uninterested disappointment.

“I wasn’t that drunk,” the pilot managed, tilting his head up to offer a little shrug, at which ben chuckled.

“you tried to color my face with a highlighter, poe.” he pointed to his cheek, where a faded neon yellow mark dotted his jawline. “because you said I was important.”

poe let out a little ‘hm’, head falling back against the pillow again. “I’m never drinking again, ever.”

“I think that’s a lovely idea,” ben mused as he pushed off of the wall and crossed over to sit beside the exhausted pilot, looking at him with a keen side-eye. “but that’s also the exact same thing you said last time.”

“fuck, you’re right.” poe responded as he pushed up to attempt to sit, but was instantly overwhelmed with a wave of dizziness, and grasped ben's upper arm for stability as he stared rather wild-eyed ahead. “oh boy,” he muttered hoarsely, gripping ben's arm rather tightly. “the floor and the walls just switched.”


	16. "pilot,"

he always swore he’d see that damned pilot strapped to a first order torture rack again one day. but oddly enough, this didn’t feel as rewarding as he thought.

dameron was quite a sight in his beaten state, but he never seemed to give up. even with a dozen marks of red across those frustratingly dashing features, he still stared on with a bold relentlessness that nearly, nearly caught hux off guard. 

“oh, hugs, great to see you again!” 

there it was, that insufferable tone, that confidence despite everything they had done to the pilot.

stepping forward so he was barely feet from the pilot, hux withdrew a sharp breath. “my name is general hux, and you’d do well to use it, rebel scum.” he spoke sharply, with purpose- but none of this actually got through to dameron.

“general fucks?”

hux’s lips twitched into a snarl. “hux.” but he was yet to realize dameron was only playing with him.

“sucks?”

the amount of condescending sarcasm that filled the pilot’s tone sent him off the edge. he had the audacity to act this way despite his position, despite his helplessness- and it was infuriarating.

dameron must have picked up on his frustrated silence because he decided to pipe up again. “I’m sorry, did I go too far, armitage?”

that did it.

without so much as a warning, hux closed the space between them, one gloved hand gripping the pilot’s jawline as he crashed his lips to dameron’s.

and to his utter shock, the pilot lingered.

before the general pulled away, a rosed hue flushing his cheeks. “will that shut you up, pilot?” he snapped.

it did, and hux enjoyed the momentary flash of shock and flustered confusion that spread across dameron’s face before he bit his lip, looking away as he fought off a similar blush.

“good.”


	17. "starlight,"

“I don’t want to do this, poe,” 

hux did this thing, poe had noticed, this little thing where when he does not want to do something (example: get some sleep. example: put down the data pad and go to sleep, damnit.) he tugs at his lower lip with his teeth, biting quite anxiously to the point where he’ll draw blood. it’s destructive, but a dead giveaway for when he’s nervous, or anticipating poe bugging him into doing said thing.

he knew he was not getting out of this.

“they’ll love ya, huxy, promise!” the pilot tugged at the wrist of hux’s jacket, effectively dragging him further down the hall. “besides, they really want to meet you.”

“oh?” hux muttered to himself. “do you really talk about me that much?”

“you know it,” damnit, dameron, you weren’t supposed to hear that.

but before he knows it, hux is through the hangar bulkheads and standing in the middle of a foreign battleground.

the ground below him is a soft tarmac, likely to cushion or absorb rough landing but effectively keep from getting oil-slick or singed. the hangar is large enough for several starfighters, and instantly hux logs in six x-wings, two a-wings, and a dozen and a half pilots in nauseating orange flight suits.

and it is loud as hell. through some kind of unnoticed speaker system, some corellian pop is blasting, echoing off every wall and filling the entire room in a jubilance hux found gratingly uncomfortable. 

“hey, tres,” poe calls out, hand slipping from hux’s sleeve to widen his arms in a welcoming manner to a dark-headed pilot decked out in an engineer’s jumpsuit heading their way. “how’re the ionized stabilizers?”

“ugh, don’t give me that shit, dameron.” she smirked as she approached. “you know as well as I do I finished those last week- you doubt my skills,” she paused, barely looking back at hux before bursting out into a little chuckle, and poe cracks a grin.

“’tage,” he extends a hand back to hux. “meet jess.” the pilot gives a two-fingered salute, and hux is sure he looks like a feral cat. eyes slightly widened, withdrawn, out of place…

“heh, commander talks a lot about you,” jess notes, and hux flushes at this. “good stuff, red, good stuff.” and with this she’s off, footsteps bouncing to the beat of the song as she goes to greet some other pilots crouched under engines and rummaging through supply boxes.

“she’s pretty nice, right?” poe gives hux a bright smile. 

“she’s.. something.”

just as soon as one pilot is gone there’s another, and now poe is leading him by the hand toward a lithe-looking keshian waving from across the hangar. his eyes, a fractally array of greens, blues, purples, they give his race away instantly. 

“iolo! this is armitage-”

“I can tell, poe,” the pilot laughs brightly as he pushes off of the fuselage of a blue striped x-wing. “that hair gives it away.”

did he really talk about him that much?

“so,” iolo approaches and extends a hand to hux, who reluctantly takes it. “ex-general, huh? how’s resistance life treating you?”

get the fuck away, hux wants to say. I never initiated conversation. I am terrified. get me out of here.

“f-fine.” hux manages a faux smile, and poe seems pretty pleased that his boy is getting along with his friends. 

“glad to hear it, armitage. and hey-” the keshian leans in a little close. “dont’ worry about dameron, here. we’ll watch his ass up there.” and gives hux a firm, unwelcome pat on the shoulder.

“seen tallie? snap?” poe wonders aloud in iolo’s direction, and the pilot gives a chin-up nod off toward the a-wings parked near the entrance of the hangar. 

“awesome. see you around, arana!” 

poe moves fast, and hux cannot keep up. 

next thing he knows, he’s staring at a pair of pilots, one of which is sitting cross-legged on the nose of her ship, elbow-deep in an access panel. the other is leaning against the ship’s boosters, gazing out of the large door of the hangar. both still in their flight suits, neither looking remotely put together. the girl has a white scarf holding up her hair, and smears of oil against her cheek as she looks up with a little blink.

“holy shit, it’s the ginger.”

the other pilot looks over, and his face spreads into a grin.

this one, hux knows.

snap wexley- possibly the must over-excited man on this planet. he’d helped hux around the base when poe was away, but was nevertheless, eager.

“hey, stranger,” snap chimes. “what brings you here?”

“wanted him to meet the family,” poe cuts in, as hux is a little stunned with all this chatter. he still looks like a cornered squirrel. 

“gonna stay for lights-out?” the girl asks brightly, looking from hux to poe.

“wouldn’t miss it!”

the hangar had fallen quiet, a queerly serene aura of starlight flooded in through the hangar bay doors and filled every corner in a hush of blue.

poe’s jacket is over hux’s shoulders, pulled tight around him in an effort to fend off the cold seeping in- but soon enough a warmth falls over the little group as snap lights a holo-fire in the center, that emits a synthetic heat.

the entire hangar seems to be here. pilots, a handful of ground crew- either sitting on supply boxes or in groups or on the nose of a ship. together.

poe had disappeared, leaving hux to awkwardly stare at the pilots as they whispered to each other. apparently, nobody could speak over a murmur now.

that’s when poe reappeared, slipping down to brush shoulders with hux, and his warmth sent little shivers through his side

he set across his lap an instrument hux had barely recognized- a guitar. acoustic, if he remembered correctly. 

and he sang. 

softly, at first, until every member of the little circle had gathered their attention to focus on him. speaking in a language hux could not understand, that he could only assume was some kind of distant outer rim lull.

in the quiet hum of chords against poe’s soft voice, a pilot kept time on the top of a supply box, a mechanic tinged her wrench against the fuselage of a ship every other beat.

force, he was beautiful, lit by starlight.

like an angel.

hux had never loved this man more.


	18. "stardust scars,"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> too lazy to transfer the html from tumblr so excuse the odd formatting shit

one of the first things they teach you in the new republic navy basic training is how to survive in a vacuum.

not every airman remembers long enough to keep alive if the incident did so occur that you were shot out of an airlock, blasted out of the sky with a fractured canopy, or boosted from your craft in improper situations.

poe dameron recalls so little of his time in the navy learning anything but the stick of a t-85. he remembers push, drag, momentum, tilt. he remembers pitch, roll, yaw. he remembers aim, lock, toggle, fire. but he does not remember a lick of what they taught him in those crowded classrooms.

hunched over a datapad messaging your friend in the back row, sharing sympathies about wanting to be anywhere but here. wishing you were scheduling for flight practice this week, not class. 

his mind races, pleading for a hint of what they drilled into his young mind before he was cleared for flight status. all of that so-called necessary information he never thought he’d have to use…

the first thing that happens when your body hits the zero pressure is your make-it or break-it move. breathe in, breathe out, or hold.

poe’s screaming instinct was to hold his breath- savor what last of the oxygen you could before you died but…

something pried at him to stop.

the first thing that happens when your body hits the zero pressure is you breathe out the last of your whispy breath. like a blocked coolant circulator in an overheated pipe system, the pressure ceases and like that, the circulator vents and in moments the entire system is destroyed.

he does not breath in. he does not hold. he exhales.

pressurized pipes- lungs punctured- the words fly through his head faster than bb-8′s binary on the t-70′s display.

so the first thing you do in the vast vacuum is- do not give in to the instinct.

what keeps you alive one day, kills you here. everything is flipped in space.

that poe learned quick.

there is no up or down.

and breathing in leads to certain death.

for about ten seconds, poe can feel nothing. 

but he knows what must be happening.

the next thing that happens when your body hits the zero pressure is the evaporation and expansion of the water in your tissue. 

and once you go into shock, well, your blood pressure skyrockets and it’s all hell for your circulatory system. coursing blood and pumping adrenaline plays against you- 

pure panic. there is no feeling like being unable to breath, feeling the spit on the end of your tongue boil in the unrestrained stellar rays, radiation cutting like lightning against your skin…

at least, poe assures himself, he will suffocate far before he freezes to death, even if it’s colder than hoth up here…

and he can feel fractalling snowflakes of freeze crawling over his skin…

and it is suddenly warm.

like a gentle embrace from a celestial body, that envelops over him in a flash of euphoric ignorance.

he can’t see anymore. the stars were beautiful, especially without the limits of a viewport. those cruel stellar demons, tearing him scars of stardust across his body…

what did they tell him, back in basic, all those years ago?

if you ever have the great misfortune of spilling out of an airlock… don’t hold your breath. don’t open your eyes and… take solace that it’ll all be over soon.

ten to fifteen seconds? was that the time allotment before he slipped back into darkness?

his vision was already starting to darken, and the blinking stars were obscured by hazy eyelashes… tired eyelids…

don’t fall asleep now, dameron, you’ve made a promise.

“I’ll be back, don’t worry!”

stay awake, dameron, you’ve still got…

what was it?

five?

four?

three-

beep

beep

beep

it’s sullen and lulling and somehow, feels safe.

but force, it hurts!

he could go on about the feelings overwhelming him now.

it is a discomfort he hadn’t known existed before know.

he can’t… he can’t see properly. oh, force, it’s too bright in here- someone turn off the lights, huh?

but no- can they hear him?  
are they here?

who are they?

who is he talking to?

the first word out of his mouth is “armitage?”

but it doesn’t register in his mind and he is left numbly, thinking he cannot speak at all.

there’s a mumble beyond the repetitive beeping.

is he… is he in a medbay?

….

“sus… ed…. localiz…. ge to….”

it’s beginning to become clearer. it’s a feminine voice- one he reconizes.

harter, maybe? then he is in a medbay.

“…vere decompression sickness. skeletal, cutaneous, likely neurologic but we haven’t been able to scan for that yet… pulmonary, cerebral… he was out there for far too long.”

that sounds… bad.

“all I want to know if if he’ll be… alright.”

that is a voice he knows. warm. familiar. striking.

“all we can do is hope, armitage.”

oh.

that’s who he was calling out to, right?

decompression sickness. that sounds rather familiar. something they went over in basic or…

“as far as we can tell, the most afflictions have to do with the intense paraesthesia and neural damage. we’ll do our best to bring him back to health.”

the femin- kalonia, again.

oh, the lights went out…

when he awakens again, there is less pain. less loss. 

sedation, perhaps? it’s tough to tell, but isn’t that a telltale sign of a sedation patch?

“oh, kriff, poe-”

his eyes snap open and he’s staring up at a familiar face.

toussled ginger hair. puffy red eyes. crying?

“holy fuck, oh force…”

it is him.

he’s grasping out for poe’s hand, and he feels a tinge of something when their skin brushes together. he winces.

“ah-” armitage pulls back. “I’m sorry I-”

poe must have looked thoroughly confused because ‘tage nodded down at his general form.

“stellar burns, love. from the radiation.”

ah. so that did happen. the lightning strikes of cutting pain, the stardust scars left patterned against his skin from the deadly vacuum of space…

“shit… I don’t even know if- if you can hear me. medic says the nerve damage…”

“love,” poe’s voice is hoarse and cracked but he can speak! “I can hear you.”

a hint of a smile, across both faces.

“you’re going to be… okay.” armitage leans forward to brush away stray curls, likely fallen tangled over his forehead. 

“I promised…”

“yeah.” he hesitates. “kriff it, poe, you did. and now look at you.”

they both shared a breath of silence.

“that’s what I get for falling in love with a pilot.”

that it is.

that it is.


	19. ' dusk, '

They had caught him in a bad place and he had only himself to blame.

It had been six days after they lost Arana, three after Pava, and one after the General.

Their beloved General.

The mother figure of the entire Resistance. A light. A beacon. Their sun- their hope.

And with their hope, their will was crushed into a billion pieces of bitter stardust.

Not only had it been a destroying blow but dealt by the hand of Ben Solo himself- Leia Organa had fallen to save her family.

Connix had cried. D’Acy denied it in hushed whispers. Wexley put his head down and Kun looked on in despair.

Poe was just quiet.

Far beyond his nature and obviously far from any glimpse of determination.

When they had brought up the subject of successor it was obvious the burden fell on the shoulders of Leia’s surrogate son. The man she trusted more than anything and put full faith in to become stronger and wiser than the flyboy they all knew.

It had to be him and they all knew it.

That didn’t stop it from falling upon him harder than the g-forces of a Corellian barrel roll in a vacuum.

He had only himself to blame when he disappeared from base.

He had only himself to blame when they slipped something in his drink unseen to the eye and hidden to the tongue.

And he had only himself to blame when the officers of the First Order, the villainous order that had just days prior claimed control of the galaxy as they knew it, pulled his unconscious body out of the street outside of that backwater bar and slapped binders over his wrists.

He failed them all like he knew he would.

-

When he came to, Poe noticed he was feeling more awful than usual.

Had the sedative left him with a hangover worse than that of the shots last night?

He felt groggy and he felt sick and he felt the shame come crashing over him instantly.

This was a royal cell. He’d been here before. On the other side of the bars, overseeing a prison transfer of an Order agent on the planet of… Naboo.

Yes, this was where he was. It came in slow waves of memory and when it hit him he groaned and let himself fall back on the concrete of the cell wall.

“Fuck!”

The exclamation rolled through the empty block and reverberated across every wall.

They came for him an hour later.

-

He had given up on trying to resist when one of them decked him in the face and left a stream of crimson from his nose to his lip to his chin.

He’d given up on trying to ask who they were or where they were taking him when one of them kneed him in the stomach in the process of clipping binders across his wrists again.

He’d given up completely when-

The doors opened up on a bright sight.

The sunlight of Naboo filtered through stained glass and lit the entire hall in rainbow, a contrast to the array of white-clad soldiers that watched him and his helpfully pain-inducing escort like a hawk.

But it wasn’t that that caught his attention, but the man yards away, sat gracefully atop a regal throne.

Dashing white uniform, a cape that flooded over the first step and ended in a sharp red line. The insignia of the Order sewn proudly against his shoulder. Framing neat red hair, a gilded crown of laurels and stars reflected his important and his prowess, his control over every moment that happened in that room. Every breath out of Poe’s mouth, he realized, was a gift in this man’s presence for he could at the snap of those leather gloved hands have him shot on sight.

It was Armitage.

And just like that Poe felt a dizziness come over him as the trooper at his side marched him closer to the throne, before kicking out his legs behind him to let the pilot fall hard onto the marbled floor.

There was a painful silence.

“General Dameron. Your Resistance is no more. Surrender your base to the Empire or we will not spare a moment in laying destruction to your feeble fleet, your nonexistent army, and your wretched Command.”

There was absolutely no glint of remorse and Poe found himself flinching at every sharply tossed word.

It was like he didn’t know him at all.

When Poe failed to respond, head hung low so that dark curls obscured his features, Hux let out a sigh.

“Give the Fleet the go-ahead. I won’t wait on this rebel scum.” Hux flicked his wrist in the direction of an officer standing by, and stared dully down at Poe.

At his old flame.

At…

“Armitage,” Poe spoke weakly and his voice was weary from the drugs, from the exertion. “What’ve they done to you…”

For just the briefest moment it was like a flash of recognition passed across his gaze and faltered in his composure.

But no.

No.

“Execution at dusk. The Resistance will be no more.”


	20. ' golden, '

It was late in the afternoon when the transport arrived back in Theed. It was unnerving when Armitage left without him, insisting he stay home where it was safer and he couldn’t get hurt. Which also meant, Poe couldn’t be there to protect him from getting hurt. He’d insisted on flying the Emperor’s transports up until Armitage put him back in fleet command, where he’d be out of danger, if not a little irritated.

This time Poe was bordering on a nervous breakdown. When, eventually, the twin doors of their chambers swung open the Pilot was on his feet to stand before a rather exhausted looking Armitage. He faltered in his steps, hesitating from bursting forward to gather him in his arms, feel that familiar warmth again.

Armitage must have seen the anxiety on his face because he started to step forward but Poe wouldn’t let him- instead, he fell to a graceful kneel, reaching to slide his hand into Armitage’s and brought it up to place a soft kiss to the back of his hand.

“You’re home.” Poe observed softly before Armitage gave a light tug and then he was on his feet, arms wrapped around his love’s waist and foreheads pressed together. Poe was on the tips of his toes to reach him.

“You didn’t say how late you’d be, I started to worry.” He explained, but his words just reached a whisper.

“Don’t,” Armitage insisted before pulling back slightly to let his hands trail down to Poe’s elbows. “But I’m afraid I’ve got more to do before-“

Poe cut him off with a twitch of a frown, and pushed back up on his toes to steal a kiss before he pulled back and grasped Armitage’s hand. “But you’re exhausted, come on.” Poe insisted and at first Tage barely resisted, allowing the pilot to slide the gilded laurels of a crown from his head and in that ruffling the ginger hair he had so neatly brushed aside. Then was his coat, hung haphazardly aside, and his boots kicked off to follow Poe to the bed then hesitate.

“I really do need to work. As emissary of the Empire I-“

“Holy shiiitt, give yourself a break.” It wasn’t often Poe let himself curse. Sometimes, at his soldiers, or sometimes, at a stubborn Tage. “I love you, and as your consort it’s my job to make sure you stay rested.” A little bit of a smirk played across Poe’s features and Tage felt himself sway just a bit.

“Stop that.” Armitage looked away, briefly, and then Poe was stepping back toward him.

“Is that an order, my love?” Poe spoke cooly with a husky allure that left Armitage staring deep into those sparkling eyes.

“I-“ he started but was cut off like before with a kiss. Not rough or careless, nor gentle or fleeting. Full of adoration. Of passion.

“Shhh,” and this time it was Poe who gave the gentle order before taking his hand and pulling him back to their bed.


	21. ' lethal, '

Armitage had never been one to take up the front lines. He was armed with a particularly trustworthy SE-44C sidearm, but had found little cause to use it save for the occasional need for reassurance of gripping the blaster when in the same room as a notably pissed off Ren. And it wasn’t that he wasn’t willing to fight, he was a General and what General wasn’t willing to make the sacrifices his troops did- it was simply that Hux found his purpose on the bridge, not on the field.

It brought a little bit of in unbelievable shock every time Dameron showed up injured. Be it from a mission or a wingmate (Dameron was far too standoffish to make actual friends that didn’t want to punch him right in his cocky face), he paid many visits to the medbay and Hux was tired of his pilot showing up broken.

This time, perhaps, it’d just gone too far.

Shattered ribs on the left side. Perforated lung, punctured the moment his ribs had totalled. Stable fracture on his left lower leg but a compounded comminuted fracture on his right wrist. It was a wonder the evac team had managed to recover him and even further a wonder they stabilized him before he slipped away.

Hux was furious.

At him, mostly, for this traumatic result of a reckless moment. He’d have hell with Dameron when he awoke.

But for this moment, at least, Dameron seemed peaceful.

Bacta was a useful substance, and often uncomfortable to be submerged in. Thankfully, Dameron had been recovered unconscious and quickly slipped under seds to avoid a panic on his part. Hux knew as well as any medic that pilot would put up a fight.

He truly did look peaceful. Covered in the skin-hugging slip of bandages from chest to knee, and slowly Hux knew, he was healing.

His hair, a mess of dark curls and fluff, was for once in his life silky and neat. Hux wondered if Dameron would let him brush it now that he was hospitalized, or if he’d regain his snappy composure and pride again.

Or maybe this would be good for him. Learn to put trust in someone else for once, give up control and just stop worrying. No doubt he’d bitch about his ship when Hux broke the news of the thing going up in flames at the crash site or his helmet, just barely saving him from cuts and gashes across the face having been left in the wreckage.

Dameron would be hell to deal with, but as his pilot, Hux was going to make it his responsibility to be as supervisory as possible.


	22. ' vital, '

“I just want you to know I really hate you right now.”

“I’m aware, Dameron.”

He swept the brush through the pilot’s hair a second time, and raised his head in approval as some of the tangles began to unravel.

“This is never going to happen again.”

“Then don’t crash again.”

He didn’t know what was better. The fact that he had been able to ground the pilot until he fully recovered or that fact that he had put himself in charge of the antsy and hospitalized man.

“If you tell anyone about this, I swear-“

“Stop worrying.” Hux muttered and once more swept through his dark curls, struggling with a couple of tangles for a moment. Reluctantly, Poe had laid his head in Hux’s lap with some amount of prompting. The dumbass pilot had refused sedatives, but this gave Hux a chance to actually care for him without Poe being able to run away.

“It’s just a fucking fracture, I mean- I’ve had worse!” Poe snapped then, tapping his casted wrist against the softness of the medbay bed. “You gotta let me get back to my ship, Hugs.”

“Not if you call me that,” Hux retorted, although his voice was soft and warm. “You can leave when you’re fit for flight. Until then,” he reached to set the brush down and lean over to place a soft kiss to Dameron’s forehead. “You stay.”


	23. ' safe, '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> vfd volunteer AU

Forgiveness was a soft thing and Poe Dameron had ever been anything but soft, but the reaches of his love never failed to amaze Armitage as he lay there, watching the gentle rise and fall of his lovers chest, the way the flickering lamp cast them in a hazy glow of warmth and gold.

He had expected anything but this. The abysmal dread of being under Snoke’s pull took something from him. From watching crimes committed by his own hand but not by his own will, seeing the ones he loved terrified of what he had become. Seeing the horror on Poe’s face that night when the flames licked up over everything he knew and everything he had.

But there could be found a certain understanding in that man. Something Armitage never thought to find. A softness that existed before but was unable to be unearthed just yet.

Maybe it just took something jarring to bring them together again. Armitage would have preferred it any other way, but, now they were together and in Poe’s arms he felt safe. Beside him, he felt safe.


	24. ' scars, '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> vfd volunteer AU

They both were aware Armitage knew that body better than anyone. This was the first time they’d been together since the fallout at the old headquarters, but Armitage still knew just what to do to make that man to crazy. What little spots he liked kissed best and in what way to move his hands across his body to get every little reaction.

When Poe stripped off his shirt, sitting at the edge of the bed (it was smaller than most but, then again, this particular Safe Place was only built for a few Volunteers at a time), Armitage had only expected the same toned body he remembered from their time in training together, before the fires, before everything.

A shocked gasp escaped his lips and instantly Armitage was taking shallowed breaths and he could feel his heart taking panicked leaps.

Poe turned instantly, a look of worry across his features before he realized-

“Oh, ‘Tage, no…” he murmured then, crawling closer to settle closer to him. “It’s okay, it’s okay…”

“It’s not!” Armitage snapped, drawing his knees close to make himself as small as possible. “Holy fuck, Poe, you never- I’m-“ his heart started to race again and the other man grasped his hand, cold and stiff.

The scars stretched over his back, and over his chest, across his arms, reaching down to where his legs were obscured by the soft fabric of sleepwear. They looked almost like lace against his tanned complexion, only just visible, but upon close inspection one could see the full extent of the scars the burn had left on his skin.

“It’s okay. I promise. It’s over.”

“No- oh god, Poe, no-“

He tugged on Armitages hand once and the man nearly melted into his embrace, allowing himself to be held close and reaching to trace his shaking fingertips over the barely raised scars. The marks of his past, of both of their past.


	25. ' distress call! '

he didn’t sleep anymore.

there was too much screaming in his head to close his eyes.

the flashing memories of rebels shot down like prey in lines when they’d fallen on d’qar- the echoes of terrified screams from those he loved that rocked him to his core and cut down to the bone- leaving scars that would never heal, that would never fade. 

he remembered jessika pava. 

she was younger than he, only a lieutenant when they first met. he loved her like a sister. trusted her.

her screams flooded the comms as her ship was blown to pieces.

he remembered temmin wexley.

one of his closest friends, valued wingmate- he could always trust snap to be there for him.

his desperate urges of poe to ‘run! go!’ haunted the pilot’s dreams, with images of his face, twisted in fear.

he remembered kaydel connix.

the general’s second-in-command. a brave face for the resistance, a natural leader. he knew she’d always be by his side.

even as she stood stiff and composed, unmoving and stoic as troopers pressed a blaster to her temple. 

he remembered everyone and everything.

the sole survivor of the resistance he was.

and poe would give anything for it to be anyone else. may it be selfish to wish this pain upon someone else, the pilot thought himself unworthy to carry on the resistance. plagued with fear, with doubt, he knew he could never face the skies with such bravery ever again. 

everything he ever knew was gone.

and the first order had gripped the galaxy, void of a proper government, and flagged it as theirs. marked it. claimed it.

there was nothing he could do.

this backwater planet felt as cold and unfeeling as ever. the night air pricking him with icy shards of arriving snow and the shadow of midnight looming over the city streets.

poe walked with his hood up, the only thing visible the curls of his unkempt hair and the tired shallow of his eyes. there wasn’t a place he could be where he wasn’t in constant fear of being spotted, of being killed like them-

but would he prefer that?

they’d all died right before his eyes.

he found he didn’t want to be in a world without him.

these self-destructive thoughts terrified him.

it was nearly one in the morning when he stood back to the beaten wall of an alley, holding his comm tightly in both hands as he reached out to the last signal he had. the emergency line they’d set up so long ago-

he had to hear him, he had to.

this was his last change.

breath held, poe closed his eyes.

and then a soft beeping emitted from the comm. he’d made contact.

“oh, stars…” the pilot huffed softly as he let a fragile smile flick over his expression so briefly. “hugs, can you hear me? please?”

there was something of a crackling from the other side.

“armitage… I need your help.”


	26. ' shut up, '

it’d been hours since the last of the d’qar sunset slipped underneath the treeline, and hours since the last ray of light graced the resistance’s base. 

but lit by the artifical shine of a datapad, their quarter remained only half at rest. 

hux had lay across the bed, millie stretched out on his chest and purring like a machine, revving up when he stroked her fur neatly, across little ginger stripes and tiny bean-shaped paws. 

“babe, do you know what time it is?” he spoke up, breaking the quiet environment suddenly and millie, in reaction, grumbled and stood up. 

poe was completely immersed in the datapad, likely flight logs or recon reports to write, file, and edit, just the outline of his body illuminated by the blue light. 

“hm, well?” hux sat up and millicent flopped onto his pillow absently. 

poe stirred from his hunched position for what seemed like the first time in hours, letting the datapad clink against the table as one hand ran through his hair. he let out a strained sigh.

“you better not have slipped stims, poe, I swear…” when the pilot didn’t respond, hux scooted to the edge of the bed, standing and takging light steps until he was standing directly behind him, and ran one hand down his arm to take his hand, guiding him away from the datapad. “c’mon, love, it can wait.”

the pilot made a tired attempt to shake him off, but allowed himself to be pulled up to stand and slowly, he interlaced their fingers. “no, it can’t,” no longer lit by the datapad they were both completely bathed in the darkness of the night.

“you’re working hard already. you deserve a break. c’mon.” hux didn’t give him a choice and while millie leapt from the side of the bed to find a more comfortable resting position, the pair lay onto the sheets, poe nuzzling his head into the curve of hux’s neck and shoulder as the ginger wrapped one arm around his waist. “honestly, poe, you’re a real idiot sometimes…”

poe grumbled something again, lifting his head up so that his curls just brushed hux’s jaw. “shut up, I love you.”

with that he pressed close again and let himself relax.

muscles untensed, breaths evened.

hux was glad that poe hadn’t taken any stims to stay up, get more work done. he’d be beyond determined to stay awake if he had. 

and now, they both were alotted rest.

“I love you too.”


	27. ' morning after, '

he was warm, and he was soft, and he embodied everything esoteric about love. no matter how many times this happened, no matter how many times they reached new heights together, armitage could never feel like he knew poe dameron, truly. he was an enigma. and athymia of armitage’s attraction, his adoration, for such a stellar being as he.

truly, dameron belonged among the stars.

he was a flyboy, yes, but also a starboy. he was in his own way a delicate balance of beauty and destruction- and armitage could only know him so well. he loved to fly and he loved to fight for his pride, for the resistance’s pride. he loved putting himself in a state where he risked everything and nothing all at once.

“It isn’t that I have anyone to live for,” he said once. “It’s the cause I live for. and that’s how I wanna die.”

one with the stars. 

it was entrancing.

his fingers danced over his back, golden in the low light and moving just gently as his sleeping breaths graced the quiet. 

he didn’t want to leave. not ever. (but did he have a choice?)

this is what armitage hux thought of poe dameron.

he was an elegy of everything lost and everything found all at once. he was something armitage could never truly uncover, for he held his morals close and kept- and for every hint of being he gave armitage, armitage could only give him so much back.

“what happened to your mother?” he’d asked once. “you’ve never told me about her.”

he spent their relationship dancing over questions like these. despite the clarity and transparency poe gave him, armitage could never give that back to him. he could never be anyone like him.

this wasn’t right.

they both knew it, but chose not to acknowledge it.

he should be in the finalizer, he should be talking to high command, he should be bossing around mitaka or asking thanisson to send him phasma’s training reports.

anywhere but here.

but he only wanted to be here. repeating the same destructive loop of pain that came every morning, every night, every time he ran his hands through those thick waves and felt poe’s love, in every way it appeared.

he only wanted him.


	28. ' one night, '

“Best pilot in the galaxy, was it?”

Poe was elbow-deep in the engines of the unmarked transport, engine oil and grease staining the entirety of his jacket, zipped to his chin in the cold wind of this unfamiliar planet.

“Not my fault!” He protested, looking up from where he sat back on his bottom, giving a sigh and shaking his head. “I can’t fix this without supplies and my comm is blown..”

“When will I learn to stop humoring you?” Hux muttered. He was standing a little ways away, hands stuffed in the pockets of his coat, collar ripped up against the gusts of foggy air.

“Don’t be like that,” Poe whined slightly, pushing to his feet and taking a step over. “I promised you some time alone and, well, at least we’re alone.”

He gave Hux a little smile- one that made his heart skip a beat and his composure falter. “We should find shelter.” He announced, whipping around to start up toward the rocky tree line, coat snapping at his boots as he went.

—

“Is it warm enough?” Once more Poe was crouched down, tending to the small crackling fire he’d managed to start from a stick and some rocks lying around. He was an enigma, this pilot.

“Fine. Come here.” Hux told him, and Poe obliged, standing to walk closer to him and settle down next to him. “You look like a mess.” Hux muttered, eyes darting down to his grease-stained jacket, the mud on his boots and in his hair. How’d it even get there? What the hell- was that mud on his cheek? Oh, hell. Time to be a good boyfriend. Hux let out a heavy sigh and reached over to unzip the windbreaker jacket, pull it off of the pilot while gushing him every few seconds when he protested. His shirt was a thin material- they were lucky they were able to get a fire going. Night had fallen on this planet side rather quick.

He shifted, grabbing some of their few supplies they’d pulled from the crashed ship, and he began to clean away some of the mud from the pilots face. “You’re awful at caring for yourself,” he noted, which they were both aware of. Hux sometimes theorized it was purposeful, that he liked Hux taking care of him.

“Yeah, but I’ve got you for that.” Theory confirmed.

Hux let out a little tch, but he wasn’t truly annoyed. Any excuse to cup his cheeks, feel his soft golden skin- maybe steal a kiss or two.

“Hugs, I’m cold.” Poe muttered, batting at one hand that was trying in vain to dab away at a grease stain that seemed permanently marked on his cheekbone.

With a huff, Hux pulled away. “You shouldn’t have dirtied your jacket.”

“Cmon Gingersnap-“ he was interrupted with a clap of sound. Like a heavy rumbling coursing across the planet, and suddenly it began to rain. Beyond the cave they’d made home base, sheets of rain and sleet began to pound the forest floor.

Hux suddenly realized Poe was gripping the edge of his coat. Knuckles white, body tense. A flash of white lit the cave, and Hux swore he felt a tremor run through the pilots body.

Oh.

Without waiting he shed his coat, draping it over them as he help Poe close to his body so they shared the General’s warmth, and Poe was shielded from the cold and fear of the storm.

It was a wordless explanation and a wordless response— but one Poe was ever glad for. Nuzzling close to him, simply taking in everything about him- he felt better.

—

Morning hit sooner than either of them realized. Poe had fallen asleep head on Hux’s lap, curled  
up like a little Yavin pillbug.

Hux didn’t want to wake him.

But he had to.

He leaned over, placing a chaste kiss at his forehead and the pilots eyes flicked open.

“Oh.” He hummed, and Hux rolled his eyes. A playful manner.

“So, Pilot, any ideas on how to get out of here?”

Poe smiled slightly, a bit dazed in his dreamily sated state. He fumbled in his pocket for a moment before producing a comm, presenting it in Hux’s hands.

The General was speechless.

“You lies about the comm? We didn’t have to stay here? You damn idiot-“

“Shhhh.” Poe chided, one hand reached up to cup his cheek, catching his gaze.

Now he understood.

There simply want enough time in the world to spend with his pilot.

But Poe had managed to change that, if only for one night.


	29. Honeyed Fallacy

Everything about this was endlessly wrong. He knew it, too, which might have been the worst part, if not for the constant feeling of tense unease that accompanied every movement he took in this unfamiliar place.

Beside him, a head of tousled ginger hair poked out nestled in the sheets, and he didn’t even try to resist the urge to reach out and mess with that hair. Letting the soft locks curl over his fingers as he watched Armitage’s sleeping form. 

He loved him. Was that so wrong? 

He remembered the first time they kissed. Sweet and soft on his tongue, in his mind. He remembered his touch and the way his hands trailed up and down his body. It was all so sickly sweet. A poison like laced honey. 

Before he knew what he was doing he was drawn in and couldn’t escape. Trapped in a dangerous web- Armitage’s web- and they both knew the General had Poe wrapped around his finger. It would be so easy to betray the pilot, his pilot- his little butterfly tricked by the promise of sweetness and tied into the spider web spun so tightly. And now he fluttered carefully, to avoid detection, to avoid getting his wings trapped as the rest of him had.

Was it so bad to give up himself to Armitage?

He had never considered detection but would never. He was loyal to the Resistance and to the New Republic. Right? That’s what he fought for every day, what he chose to put his life on the line for. 

Was it so wrong to consider a life without that?

A slight stirring beside him pulled him from his thoughts and Armitage turned over to face him with a sleepy smile, hair falling over his forehead unkemptly.

“Hey,” Poe offered softly.

“Hey.” Armitage responded.

There was a pause and with his free hand, the one not propping his head up, he felt for Tage’s hand, and laced their fingers together. His hand felt warm. And it was comforting.

“I have to go,” Armitage murmured and his eyes flicked away. “I’ll be back.”

Poe let out a soft huff and let his head hit the pillow. 

“You will?” He wasn’t keen on staying in a Star Destroyer longer than he had to. 

“I will.”

Poe had fallen asleep again by the time Armitage slipped out of bed.

—

He woke up to a pair of rough hands that gripped his arms and threw him to the ground.

Instinctively he grabbed to his side for where his blaster would be- if he was wearing anything other than borrowed sleepwear. 

There was a foot on his chest and in the struggle of the pilot thrashing and whoever had assaulted him trying to still him, he couldn’t see anything- until something landed hard and blunt on his face. 

He suspected it was the other foot.

It left his mouth coppery and slick with blood before a hand grabbed at the collar of his shirt and pulled him to his feet.

“What the fuck-!” Poe started to cry but as soon as he opened his eyes, he paused, and a yell caught in his throat.

A group of troopers, ten or fifteen, had filled the room. Weapons raised and aimed at him. 

What the hell was happening here?

But then the troopers parted slightly and a familiar terror overcame him.

He couldn’t move. 

Sure enough, that wolf of a man cloaked in shadow stepped through the white and with him carried an air of horror. It riveted through every trooper who ducked their head at his presence, and reverberated off the walls as the hum of the force surrounded the pilot. 

“Welcome back, Dameron.”

The disembodied, mechanized voice of Ren cut through the tense silence. Poe felt too terrified to speak. To even try to move. 

A single drop of blood slipped from his lips.

“General Hux has finally brought me something worthwhile.” Ren spoke with a chuckle and Poe felt his blood run cold.

Hux?

Armitage?

“What the hell d-do you want you-“ Poe started to speak in a rough tone and some of the blood on his lips slipped free. He only stopped when the force of energy around him tightened, choked rather than embraced.

“Come on then, General, see your hard work.” Ren turned a quarter to the side and a familiar face stepped into view.

But he held himself to differently. Defeated. Demeaned. Poe could even spot a bruise blooming over his right cheek. Ren.

“Tage, what’s happening?” He spoke hurriedly, looking to the General with panic. He was like prey, standing here dormant to move. 

Armitage wouldn’t look him in the eyes.

“Isn’t it obvious, Pilot?” Ren paced closer. Poe would have flinched, if he could. “He’s doing his job. Cleaning up the rebel scum.” 

Poe wouldn’t give Ren the satisfaction of even looking at him.

“Armie, baby, please tell me he’s lying,” there was a painful amount of panic in his jumbled words. He was so confused. So hurt. So afraid. “Love, please don’t.... Armie...”

But the ginger general kept his gaze leveled right over Poe’s head. Hands folded behind his back, chest rising with a heavy sigh that he strained to quiet. 

“Take him away. We’re done here. Well done, Hux.”

The troopers around him started to move. 

Poe didn’t speak again.

Only glanced to Armitage as the white armored soldiers dragged him past, and for a brief second he caught the others gaze.

But only for so long.


	30. I Know You

“remember. we’re kes klivian and ræh tessir.” poe repeated the names like clockwork. he’d drilled them into his mind to the point where he responded to his alias at the call of it- reminded himself, constantly.

poe felt a shudder run through him.

I am a first order pilot.

I graduated the new republic academy and was enlisted by the order when I was 22.

I’m a centurion. I’ve got two dozen and a half kills under my belt and over a hundred landings in the finalizer.

I’m the best in my squad.

I believe in the empire.

I believe in the supreme leader.he glanced back to kaydel. she tugged at the hem of the navy-blue major’s uniform. it fit odd around her chest, too long for her short legs and obviously a hell to be in. suddenly, poe felt very thankful for the comfort of a pilot’s flight suit. even in the dark of a first order vac-head, he felt at ease knowing he was only a pilot. he didn’t have the same pressure as kaydel did. ræh, he reminded himself, as ræeh did. 

“do you have the codes?” she stepped over heeled boots clicking against the ground of the stolen shuttle. it’d been a lot of work to artificially re-code the shuttle’s transmission codes and identification, and even more to create two new persons in the system’s database without being noticed. lace them into the first order’s history, backups, black boxes, make up an identity that had never existed and become it. 

“affirmative, major.” he drawled, reaching over to press a few buttons, flick a few switches, prepare for communication. take a deep breath. “shuttle 2-a4-k to finalizer docking bay control, permission to land.” 

he felt his breath hitch in his throat, everything seeming to stop.

“receiving codes now, shuttle 2-a4-k.” the accented voice of some petty officer responded.

there was a long pause, when surely poe and kaydel would be blasted out of the sky. they’d be noticed, they’d be killed or taken prisoner or-

“confirmed, shuttle. go ahead.”

oh thank the stars,

as soon as he let go of the transmission button they both let out a heaving sigh. 

“this is so stupid…” kaydel breathed.

“yeah- but you signed up.”

“so did you,”

“as soon as we land we have to part. I can’t be seen talking with you.”  
“I know, I know, we went over this in briefing.”  
“okay, okay. stay safe, poe. I love you like a brother. don’t do anything stupid.”

the onversation was still fresh in his mind as poe crossed the busy hangar. he knew he fit right in. just another suit, just another helmet.

he knew it belonged to someone else, this helmet. someone long gone. second-hand, as with everything else abou this identity. his name.

klivian- a famous pilot poe’d read about in the history holos, someone he idolized- right alongside with all of those old alliance pilots.

and kes.

kes dameron- his father. 

it was traceable to his true self, he knew, but kes was common enough as a first name to get away with it. in the same way ræh was chosen by kaydel, a name from the past of the alliance, a name she held close. 

he wondered, briefly, how many other pilots had names they chose to hide. how many of them had pasts the order had eliminated, through conditioning or otherwise. poe would give anything in a heartbeat to give them a way out, to free them.

but he couldn’t.

he had a mission.

hidden beneath the dark helmet, he felt safe. through the darkened mesh lenses, he could watch everyone who walked by, but nobody could see him, he was safe. 

the halls were long and angular, the aesthetic of the order all so conforming. 

he’d made it past the bay. he was almost to the officer’s stations, if their maps were correct. (they were stolen, so poe doubted it.)

something caught his attention. someone was calling for help. something familiar about that voice- something-

it hit him and he burst into a run. 

skidding to a stop at the end of a sharp turn, he froze. a pair of troopers, burly, tall- and someone familiar in a navy-blue uniform.

it wasn’t exactly a sound decision and poe wasn’t exactly thinking straight.

before he knew it, his helmet was on the floor, and his fists were making contact with the helmet of another. 

his fist caught, and something hard and plastic cut against his cheek.

“stop!” the voice shattered their tension and paused both the pilot and the troopers in mid-fight, the voice authoritative and commanding.

poe glanced back to where kaydel stook pressed against the wall. she was okay.

“what is this?” the voice hissed, and for the first time poe looked upt meet the eyes of that who commanded the trio.

he felt hs breath catch. he swore all color drained from his cheeks.

“you two. report to phasma’s unit immediately.” armitage hux stood before them, fists clenched at his sides, the crack of leather snapping through the silence as he released them. the troopers ran off instantly, suddenly fearful and uneasy.

“major,” he regarded kaydel, extending a hand to steady her. kaydel looked from poe, to the hand, realizing it was in her best interests to act as if this was okay. she took his hand, giving a thankful nod, pulling off of the wall. “get to the medbay. if this happens again, and it won’t, you come to me or one of my assistants.” there was something soft about his tone, and it put poe off. that wasn’t right. kaydel gave a nod, she was obviously terrified and poe just hoped he attributed it to her altercation, and she burst off to somewhere safe. somewhere he could meet with her, he knew. they’d planned this beforehand. if anything went wrong, they’d find each other.

armitage wouldn’t notice him, he couldn’t. it was only once, a drunken mistake, a midnight decison he knew they both regretted. he couldn’t notice him, he couldn’t- he couldn’t.

poe picked up the pace. he tried to dart past armitage, heat beginning to flush into his cheeks.

“I know you.”

he stopped. he should never have taken off his helmet, never have done this in the first place!

“dameron.” a recognition rang in hux’s voice as the pilot turned around to face him, a fear filling his eyes. “poe dameron. pilot.” it was like he was recalling his name for the first time in years- it had only been months, right?

he still remembered the way they met.

he remembered hux’s kisses, warm and rough against his skin.

he remembered his voice, rough, but with a composred purr-

had he really been all that drunk?

“it’s been a while, armitage.” poe said hestantly, as if he was testing the waters seeing how much he could press without being shot or turned in. 

“odd. you, in a first order uniform.” he could feel hux’s eyes moving down his body, taking in the unfamiliar uniform and judging every bit of it.

“how’ve you been, red?” poe resorted to a sly tone, a twitch of a smirk on his complacent features.

somethign changed between the two of them. something needy. it’d been too long. 

hux advanced toward him.

poe’s back hit the wall. 

a smile twitched onto his lips.

this was bad. 

this was wrong

but he wanted it

they both did.

“tell me pilot,” hux was close, now. one hand traced up poe’s side, cupping his cheek gently. a honeyed poison. oh, this was so bad.

but… 

“do you still taste sweet?”


	31. Millennia

I’ve lost count, now of how many times I’ve lost you.

Nobody ever told me it’d be hard and nobody ever took the time to explain anything.

I started to wonder, does everyone live like his?

The first time I ever met you we were never meant to be. Two sides of the same war, fighting for causes that could never co-exist. You were a General, and I was supposed to hate you. I was a pilot, and you were supposed to kill me.

You did, by the way, which hurt. I didn’t hate you, though, I never could.

No matter how many times you shot down my starfighter, no matter how many times your men shot me from ten yards or point blank-

Even you, oh beautiful you, drenched in adrenaline and passion, put a bolt through my heart…

I could never hate you.

There were times when we met under better circumstances. Once you were sweet, once you were not- there would always be times we fought and I had to accept that.

I could never throw the right punches and it was always You I lost to.

I remember one time you were on my side.

They took you, men clad in white armor with blasters at-arms.

They times you leave are the worst because I know you’re alive,

(I can feel it)

But you’re not beside me

Where are you?

I have had times where I am with someone else.

A man, usually, tall.

I don’t like him much. I miss you.

There’re others who I’ve met who reappear.

An orphan, with a soul of fire and a bite to her.

A kind man who I like the company of best.

My friends, who come in dozens of forms,

(A man, friendly; a woman, cold; a girl, excited; a boy, dead)

Someone I’ve lived my whole life with.

My mother, I think, though sometimes she’s a guardian, or a guide, or even a boss.

Sometimes I have a dog or a cat or a few times a robot. She’s soft and orange. I love her but sometimes she dies before me or I have to put her down.

And she’s not you, and I have to accept that.

Once you loved me back so dearly and tenderly, and I told you I loved you and how much I missed you.

(After all, it’d been so long since we had touched at that point.)

Only to have you torn away when our time runs out.

I can only hope that next time we will be born in the same world.

Once I wrote a letter to you but I didn’t know your name so it hit it away.

(I didn’t know where you were either. It is like that most of the time.)

I found it years later and I cried because I never found you.

Next time I did but I was too late.

(I dislike it when you’re in the hospital.)

Most of the time fate plays a hand that isn’t fair.

And I have to accept that.

That’s how life seems to be played.

Today I woke up next to you again.

(For the first time in a long while)

And I kissed you good morning and you left for work.

I hope you come home today.

There are too many possibilities where you don’t.

I don’t want to live in a world without you.

I wonder,

I wonder if you remember every life like I do.

Every world and every possibility and every breath we’ve both taken.

If I asked you would that be mad?

If I asked you would that be completely insane?

The way you looked at me today…

When I ran my hands through your soft ginger hair,

Felt your kisses- sweet and honeyed,

It felt like it had been a millennium,

Since I found you again.


	32. Amber

It was the third time this month they’d been able to meet up. Armitage had been busy planning the destruction of the Resistance, and Poe had been busy trying to prevent that very same thing.

They agreed to keep work out of their time together. Not to let that cloud anything. Even if Poe came to him beaten and roughed, a sullen look in his eyes as if he’d just lost a great deal and Armitage had, days previous, launched a full-scale attack on his stationed base, they did not discuss. They did not apologize. They did not regret.

They never let love get in the way of their personal actions, either. Armitage prioritized meetings over Poe and Poe prioritized his orders over Armitage. It had to be that way, and neither brought it up, neither questioned or suggested or amended.

It was the only way.

This time, it had been a cooling tension between the two sides. Radio silence from both, waiting, watching, for a cue, for a sign, to make a move. A Cold War, and Poe felt just as cold when he stepped into the hotel room.

Armitage was sitting turned away, on the bed, still dressed in his all-too-conforming uniform. Suddenly, Poe in his earthy-colored civies felt very out of place. 

The room was lit with an amber candlelight, but Poe knew this was simply a matter of the broken-down state of the room, and not Armitage’s attempt to make anything any more romantic.

Strictly physical, it had started.

Started.

Not ended.

Not anything in the middle when they held each other close and felt the heartbeats, felt the breathing, felt each other.

Poe stepped forward and sat beside the General and hung his head and there was a great deal of quiet, and a great deal of breathing, before either of them said anything.

His eyes were lit with the same amber as the firelight as Armitage turned to look at him and something was off.

The General watched him, unsure, and felt tears at his eyes.

No, Armitage, this is no time to cry.

Be brave, Armitage, father didn’t raise a cowardly boy.

“Talk to me,” Poe’s voice was soft. He placed one hand palm-up against Armitage’s knee and the other took it, softly, hesitantly, and deftly.

“There’s nothing to talk about, Poe.” Armitage kept his gaze trained away. On the dancing flicker of flames casting beautiful shadows on the walls.

“Don’t keep me out, love. What is it?” He gave a light squeeze of Armitage’s hand, and the other pulled away. “Please, let me help.”

Armitage did meet his eyes and he did speak, but only words that would bring a great deal of sadness to the pilot sitting next to him. 

A great deal of trauma and a great deal of pain, and a feeling of loss of one’s way.

He felt alone.

“I’m sorry,” Armitage whispered as he plunged the syringe into his lover’s veins, into the coursing blood beneath golden skin, and he held him close. 

As Poe’s eyes began to glaze, fallen victim to the sedative, he fell, and Armitage held him. One hand against his chest, his heartbeat, slow and steady and calming, and the other around his waist.

“I’m so sorry. It had to be this way.”

And it was quiet.

The amber light the only witness to the lover’s crime.

And it was quiet.


	33. To Breathe On His Own

it had become a routine, one that both of them were well-accustomed to and ever-thankful for. they both benefited, in their own way, and in the end, it only served to show how close a couple could be.

poe had become used to cold hands shaking him awake at night, blinking in the pitch-black to try and adjust to be able to pull armitage close and lay his head in his lap, stroke his hair until he slept, hum lullabies in old yavinese and tell him stories of beautiful warriors who fought with the je’daii so long ago or of pilots, bold and brave and magnificent in their perfectly executed barrel rolls or spinning hops that would send even the most experienced cadet askew. 

armitage never understood any of the terms he used or the stories he told but the sound of his voice, lulling and husky from sleep, was enough to dream away his nightmares. nightmares of terror and blood, and things he’d rather go unsaid.  

it was like this for so long, until one night, armitage didn’t awaken; and it was the war-torn pilot who bolted upright like a frightened flight animal trying to escape the darkness of his subconcious. his burnet curls stuck to his forehead with a thing film of sweat, a disquieted expression wirtten across his shadowed features.

he was  _shaking_.

not wanting to awaken his lover, poe moved slowly. he shifted to sit at the edge of the bed, and set his hands palm-up on his knees. 

like an addled child, he could only sit, trying to ride through the waves of wintry fear that washed through him. 

it felt so  _real_.

he glanced back.

armitage was asleep, soft skin pearlescent in the moonlight.

he squeezed his hands, and let go. squeezed, and let go.

“my name is poe dameron.”

touched the tip of his fingers together, thumb to pointer, thumb to middle, thumb to index.

“I’m at the resistance base in d’qar in my room.”

thumb to pointer, thumb to middle, thumb to index.

“I’m alive.”

thumb to pointer, thumb to middle, thumb to index.

“I’m alive.”

thumb to pointer, thumb to middle, thumb to index.

“I’m alive.”

he fell quiet, but his eyes moved rapidly. taking account of everything across from him. the little details. the way the stars reflected off of the window, the way his flight suit was folded neatly next to his datapad. armitage’s boots, next to his, and then down, at the ring on his fingre. it was smooth and cool to the touch.

_I’m here, I’m alive._

and then suddenly it all shattered.

flashes of the dream, flashes of faces and of the sounds and lights-

all of it at once, he coulnd’t feel anything except fear-

de-realization set in instantly.

he could no longer track his breaths, the more he tried to contain them the faster his pulse continued.

so much so bright so loud-

“hey, hey! I’m here! I’m here! just breathe, breathe love, c’mon,”

a touch to his shoulder, nothing too pressured and he felt a strike of fear. 

he would have jumped away had he not realized the sensation was from another, and he turned around quickly, hair falling over his forehead wildly.

armitage stared at him wide-eyed, and poe could see nothing but his gaze, catching him and bringing a reality that didn’t exist before.

“breathe. you’re here. you’re with me,” armitage moved slowly as if afraid of frightening him, taking one hand in his two and lacing their fingers together.

“It was a dream, baby, you’re here.”

poe’s lips trembled, his eyes slowly zoning back in to reality.

“it wasn’t real. you’re right here, I promise, breathe.”

back to the world where he was okay. back to the present where the past couldn’t hurt him.

back to armitage, where he was safe, where he was okay.

“say it with me, love, you’re alive. you’re okay, you’re here.”

his words were shaken. “I’m alive.” he managed, and armitage nodded. “I’m okay. I’m here.”

“breathe through it, darling, it’ll pass, it’ll pass.”


	34. Living on the Off-Beat

“Ooohh, man of the hour- Poe kkkrrriffin Dameron!” Jess’s holler lit up the already lively mess hall, and instantly the pilot reddened in the face, shuffling awkwardly toward the table and ducking his head to avoid any confused stares or knowing smiles. Jess yelling out some nonsense was nothing new.

“Rough night, Dameron?” Tallie smirked, taking a long sip of her apple juice, glancing side-long at Paige and Kaydel, giggling messes at the end of the table, collapsed over their empty breakfast plates, stifling ugly laughter as they watched Poe approach.

“Oh, laugh it up,” He chimed, sitting down in defeat between Jess and Snap, the first of which instantly leaned one elbow on his shoulder.

“Mm- no-” Karé spoke through mouthfuls of food, taking a moment to swallow before speaking it up. “You got it wrong, Poe. We’ve all heard General Solo’s stories. Laugh it up  _fuzzball_.  _Fuzzball_ , Poe, you idiot.”

He raised his eyebrows in mock protest. “Oh? I’m the fuzzball? Take a look at miss sunshine over there,” he nodded past Jess to Kaydel, and instantly the girl’s nose wrinkled, a flare of anger flashing in her eyes.

To be fair, he was right. Her usually pristine pinned buns had left her hair in waves of pale golden fluff, falling over her shoulders loosely and freely. 

“Whaaatever,” Kaydel responded and gave him a roll of her eyes, eliciting a smug grin. 

“So,” Snap cleared his throat. “You gonna tell us?”

Poe gave him an awkward look. “What?”

“You know.”

_He knew._

“Seriously, guys, I am not going to talk about my sex life with you.”

Jess retreated, eyes wide in a dramatic gesture. “Oh, you said it not meee, Commander  _Damn_ -eron,” 

“Nice one, Jess!” Paige shot in, reaching unceremoniously across the table to slam a high five with the other girl.

“Don’t even try to hide it, Poe,” Kaydel commented. “The walls are thin, Dameron. Thin as wet paper and they do  _not_  filter sound.” Her words turned to a sickened hiss, recoiled into her mess of waves as if reliving a war flashback.

“Ah, Kay- that’s so gross!” Paige winced, giving a cringe of condolence. 

“Not as bad as Jess and Rey, I’ll bet on it!” Karé shot in, giving a cocked eyebrow Jess’s way. 

“We aren’t… C'mon, Karé!” Jess had flushed a deep red by now, not meeting anyone’s eyes.

“Don’t worry, Jessie, young love is just so beautiful,” Snap hummed playfully, but quickly looked back to Poe. “So…? What’re you gonna tell us?”

“Nothing! Ugh- I hate you guys!” Poe threw his hands before him in defense.

“We know that’s not true, you looovee us.” Tallie noted, and Poe had to agree. For all of their indecent intrusions into his love life, he loved them more than anything.

“Oop-!” Jess squeaked softly, straightening up and looking to her food. The others took the cue, stealing sly glances as a confused Poe.

There he was, ruffled by sleep and in a drowsy state of softness, Armitage made his way to the table, stopping behind Poe to place a kiss in his burnet curls.

Poe made like he was going to shy away, but a muffled giggle from Paige caught his attention.

“Morning, love,” Armitage said softly, giving a nod to the pilots. “Hey,” 

“U-uh, morning,” Poe managed, twisting just so to look up at him. “I’ll be right over, okay?” and Armitage nodded, excusing himself and leaving Poe alone.

Instantly the entire table burst into a chorus of laughter. 

Poe flinched, burying his face in his hands and trying to block them out. “Why are you guys like this,” he groaned.

“Ahhhh,” Jess fell back against his shoulder with a long sigh. “You’re too funny, flyboy. We can’t help ourselves,”

“Too easy to tease,” Snap replied,

“And too easily flustered.” Tallie finished with a proud grin.

It was true, despite everything.


	35. Aphotic Despondency

 

 

"It's fucking bullshit, Hux. All of it."

"I don't-"

"You could have _died_ , fucking idiot!"

 

Armitage is surprised he hadn't thrown anything yet. He's just pacing, fuming, and somehow, that is even scarier. 

 

"Ever think maybe that was the fucking point?" Hux snaps, and he can feel his lips twitching into a snarl. "Ever think of that, _Dameron_?"

"You don't get to say that!" Poe stops mid-pace, and points one accusing finger right at him. His other hand is curled into a frustrated fist at his side. He's leaning forward, shaking just slightly. "Not after everything we've been through!"

Hux doesn't break eye contact, but he wants to look away. His cheeks are burning, his eyes stinging, his arms numb- he wants to do anything but _this_. 

"I'm so tired of doing this with you."

"Then don't!" Hux interjects sharply, and his fingernails dig into the soft flesh of his palm, creating dark curves against his skin. "Stay out of it! Leave me the fuck alone!" He bares his teeth like a rabid dog, and Poe barely flinches.

"I'm not gonna leave you alone." He laughs dryly, withdrawing and shaking his head as he rubs at his forehead. "You'll die. You'll fucking kill yourself if I don't watch you ever goddamn moment of the day." 

This time it's Hux who doesn't flinch, and it takes a moment to think of how to respond. 

"Stay out of my personal life." It's cold, and dry, and low, but it carries all the meaning he needs it to. 

"I _am_ your 'personal life', damnit!" Poe snaps sharply back. "You don't have any fucking feelings outside of this room. You're just a fascist with a coat, Hux." 

He stands, roughly, and takes one bold step forward. Threatening. _Warning_.

"And you're a flyboy." His voice drops to a deadly hush. "And you call me suicidal." He scoffs, and flicks around, ready to leave. Ready to storm out, forget everything in an amber daze of liquor and cigarette smoke. 

A hand catches his wrist and he thrashes against Poe's deadlock grip. It sends flashing pain through his bandaged wrists, skinny as they may be, and Poe seems to realize this instantly and lets go, backing up with his hands raised like he just touched a bomb. 

"Fuck, Hux. _I'm sorry._ "

Hux stares at him, a look of horror in his eyes. 

And then it seems to melt away.

"What's the fucking point, anyway?" He spits, and turns to leave again. 

This time, Poe doesn't make a move to stop him. 

He doesn't dare.

"Screw recovery," Poe hears him mumble on his way out. "I need a drink."

 

-

 

He finds him near-passed out in the 'fresher.

There's alcohol on his lips, his face is flushed pale, all of the crimson taken from him leaking from his wrists.

 

He is marred.

He is broken.

Poe takes a breath.

-

By the time Poe has gotten him bandaged, Hux is fully awake, staring dully out at the wall from where he is propped up on the bed.

An aphotic euphoria has crossed over him, he looks far-away, he looks like the seabirds do when they've swept away in a storm. 

He doesn't cry except for when Poe touched his skin with the bandages, and then he stills and for a brief moment Poe thought he'd lost him.

And then he looks off again and once more returns to a daze. To a comatose dream. 

He doesn't speak.

Neither of them do.

There is silence,

and then there is stillness,

and then there isn't.

 

 


	36. Left-Hand Side

The greatcoat was like a blanket that shielded him from everything outside of his little world. It was large enough to obscure his frame and even add a little bit more to him, something that helped him to appear more menacing than he feared he actually did, and warm enough to help him fend off the chill of living on a Star Destroyer.

He was thankful for this shield of his. It wasn’t often someone he respected or wanted the respect of would see his frame sans coat. The medics, however, were well acquainted with the General’s problems. His anemic tendencies, his lithe and frail form, and his identity.

Really they were the only ones beside Phel he could trust with this information. For fear of ridicule or doubt from his superiors and Ren especially. He’d learned that lesson soon enough, that he could not let others in emotionally if he ever wanted to succeed.

His father made sure he knew that. 

Through the stripes of scars carved into his pale flesh to and burns on his arms, his wrists. Countless mars that Hux strives to cover with long sleeves and a brave front. 

He still had the nightmares, the ones where that man- Brendol- had ingrained shouts into his minds. 

“You’re delusional.”  
“Nothing but a scrap.”  
“You’re barely a girl, barely anything at all.”

The growls and yells marked him as deep as the scars.

He remembered so little however of his childhood beyond those memories in the form of cruel shadowed dreams. 

The psych aboard the Finalizer informed him he was blocking out harmful memories. That was ridiculous, Hux figured. Those memories were what formed him into who he was now, weren’t they? Brendol’s lack of mercy, each cruel stroke, that was only to make him stronger.

There was one memory Hux could scrape up. He’d done something wrong- cut his hair. He still remembered the fiery locks as they clogged the sink, the determination and satisfaction as Hux could look in the mirror and see himself as he wanted, not as he was.

That had earned him nothing more than another tally mark across his back.

“You’ll never be a man. You’ll never be anything.”  
“Thinner than a slip of paper and just as useless.”  
“As competent as one, too.”

This was no time to feel bad for himself. He had plenty to do, and only so much time in the day cycle to do it.

With a flick of his coat, Armitage Hux was pacing through the dark and silver-lined halls of the Finalizer to the bridge.

He never had confidence in the way he presented. That was stripped from him long ago. Each side-glance from a pair of officers or a lieutenant rushing down to deliver something. Hux knew they weren’t looking at him. Hux knew they weren’t judging him.

It still made him afraid to think so.

—

By the time Hux had retired to his quarters, back aching and throat burning from barking orders all day- he noticed several pings on the surface of his datapad.

“Hey Huuuugggss!

Text bacckk!

Tonight? How bout 2200 hours 

Cmon Gingerbell...”

Before another message could appear on his screen Hux grabbed the pad and quickly typed back;

“I was working, Poe.”

He bit his lip. Thumb hovered over the keys on the screen. 

“Tonight is perfect. See you then.”

He flipped the thing face down before he could see whatever sweet yet so annoying thing Dameron would respond with.

Despite his flaws, someone Hux found a genuine love for that damned pilot.

It was already 2100 hours, so that meant Hux had only so much time to get ready before he set off to whatever backwater planet Poe was planning.

They’d been dating for two months now. 

It was never serious, Hux made Poe know that he wouldn’t get far until he felt he knew Poe well enough and the pilot assured him he understood completely and would respect those boundaries.

It was a wonder they even met. And a danger, at that. It should never have come to this. It really was only one drink, but things escalated quickly and soon enough they were planning dates every few weeks to try to slip past their superiors their painfully elusive love.

Would it be so much easier to let go of him? 

He knew Poe was gay. That was obvious. But what hurt Armitage was not knowing what he would think of...

No. This was no way to think. 

He needed to stay positive.

After a quick shower, he dried his ginger hair with a towel, taking note that he’d have to let it grow in some more. He’d just cut it, taken a little too much off the top-but that was what he got for using rightie scissors.

Being left-handed felt wrong sometimes, especially when everything else in the world was made for someone you weren’t. You were the outlier, the one who wasn’t made according to plan. A mistake, if you will.

A dry laugh escaped Armitage’s lips. 

A mistake. All of it was like a sick mistake.

—

He reached planetfall only half an hour late, the unmarked shuttle landed in a roughed looking bay, and the General palmed over a handful of credits to the employee, mostly for his silence.

He was dressed oddly compared to his usual outfit. Nothing with any noticeable logo, nothing tight to his skin. Baggy. Blanketing. Obscuring. 

This planet made him endlessly uncomfortable. It was full of urchins and marketeers probably selling under the table stims or seds. Hux didn’t put himself above slipping some stims when he needed to stay up, but those were all medbay issued. He didn’t too approve of those who’d given up on life.

But who was he to judge those who wished themselves death or, another life? Too many times he considered that an option. Too many times he wanted to escape. Many of his scars were dedicated to that. Remembering he was alive.

He tore himself from his thoughts with a sharp breath as he stepped into the bar Poe had picked out and a blast of warmth hit him from the heated indoors. Only the barkeep turned to look at him. There was a Twi’Lek passed out on the bar, however, a human and a Keshian sitting in a booth to the left, and a couple of others playing some kind of native card game on a rounded table. 

Hux spotted Poe instantly.

And the night went so well.

Too well.

—

He was drunk. He had the consciousness to realize that, at least. His stomach felt warm, his head dizzy and a permanent edge of a smile graced his lips. 

Poe was before him, all charisma and golden eyes. Those rough hands from work and piloting skimmed his sides and Hux wanted to kiss him there and then. 

And he did, leaning in to press their lips together as Poe’s hands worked at his belt. 

He knew where this was going. 

They both did.

Hux was too enamored to even consider this was wrong. Poe was drunk, so was he! Not to mention supposed to be mortal enemies, not lovers!

But then those hands were tugging at his shirt and the fabric brushed his pale stomach, the femininecurve of his waist and hips...

He jumped back with a soft cry of panic and hands wrapped around his middle instantly. Back pressed against the wall of the cheap motel, eyes wide- frightened.

And then he looked to Poe.

The pilot stared at him, mouth just parted in shock. Instantly Hux felt as though he’d done something wrong- as he was sure Poe felt. 

And then he turned cold. A defense mechanism. 

“This was a mistake.”

There was a silence, neither dared to move closer or even breath.

“Armitage...” Poe’s voice was hurt. Terrified. Terrified of hurting the one he loved.

“I’m sorry I-“ he felt a choking sob cut him off and bit the side of his cheek. No. He could not cry here, not now... 

“Armitage. You don’t have to...” Poe took a tentative step closer as if approaching a caged animal. “What did I do?”

“You didn’t,” Hux let a single tear free, but that was all. He would not be weak. 

“You know I love you...”

“I know...” another tear. Salty and hot that dripped down to his chin. 

“Please, ‘Tage, what’s wrong?” Another step closer. Careful and gentle that made Hux’s heart jump. 

His hands shook like the room was freezing cold. Slowly, his own touch pulled the shirt over his head and he let it fall to the floor. 

“Oh, baby-“

“Please don’t.” Hux interrupted, and he couldn’t bring himself to look the pilot in the eye. “Please don’t say anything. Just-just go if you don’t... if..”

He took another step so only inches kept them apart. But Armitage didn’t shy away, didn’t flinch back. 

“Love, you’re beautiful.” Poe closed the space between them, warm hands grasping his sides and placing a kiss on his collarbone, just above where the binder obscured his chest, his femininity, everything he hated so much. “Oh, stars, Gingersnap, you’re beautiful.”


End file.
